


All We Have is Now

by brattybat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cute Ending, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, M/M, McCree Is A Dork, and hanzo loves him, basically two dumb babies, hanzo being upset that another life was put before his own, mccree being a careless asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 09:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7217764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brattybat/pseuds/brattybat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't until he sunk himself in a hot shower of steam and scorch to realize he needn't change his mind nor regret his actions from the day. If it weren't for a few bullet wounds to his shoulder, Hanzo could quite possibly no longer be with them. Was Jesse going to risk a hateful slap across his face and another addition to talk of his reckless attitude? When it regarded Hanzo's safety - not in the slightest.</p><p>A.K.A : In which Hanzo let's an enemy slip past him a little too late to stop a frantic McCree from stepping in between a dangerous situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All We Have is Now

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS MY FIRST FIC ON HERE????? also this idea just randomly came to mind please bare with me im still squishy when it comes to fanfiction also im weak for big grumpy dorks

The sting of smoke and overused flash bangs threatened to render McCree’s eyes useless as he dodged and rolled his way through a mess of a street fight. King’s Row still might have been a bit too unfamiliar to find himself comfortable hideaways, but the Overwatch member felt himself to be doing a decent job given the position he was in. Certainly, this wasn’t a full team mission - picking off a group of anarchists that seemed to pop up more than not within these parts, it sounded easy enough.

Of course, anything sounds easy in retrospect. McCree knew that well.

It had to be right slab in the heart of chaos when, out of the corner of an eye, the cowboy saw it - saw one of the buggers tumble through a window and scurry up the same set of stairs Hanzo had ascended before they announced their attack. Seeing how close he got, McCree knew for a fact Hanzo had missed him, and it was that fact that made a heavy weight tug his heart into a deep pit in his stomach. Hanzo wasn’t as skilled at close range combat as he was at long range shooting. And with his hands already more than full taking down a flurry of throwing knives and molotovs, there wasn’t much room for mistake.

Along with the two men, Mercy and Tracer had accompanied them on the mission to clear the area of the enraged, Omnic-hating hooligans that attempted to overtake a small refuge of neglected Omnics and the loved ones who resided with them. In a place like King’s Row, Omnic-friendly spaces are demolished just as fast as they are created. Overwatch always did their best to reach out to Omnics in need - just as much as humans. But after a while, McCree was wondering if this mission was worth the trouble of only four heroes. 

By now, the cowboy had left a rather confused Lena to an oncoming group. Completely dashing to the building at his right, it surely seemed to look as if he were cowardly abandoning the fight. Ducking past a handful of slipshod bullets that instead dug a haphazard line of holes into the cement wall behind him, McCree scampered up crumbled stairs in a frantic heap of gruff breath and gripped revolver. His pulse hammered in his ears, down his throat and shook through his body as he laid eyes on the scraggly man currently sneaking toward an unsuspecting Hanzo. Curses flowed from behind tightly shut lips. McCree willed his pace to quicken further. 

“Hanzo!” He found himself shouting the man’s name before anything else could come to mind.

That was, of course, after McCree had already jumped in between the piercing shriek of a gun and a very shocked, very defensive Hanzo. By the time the flashbang he had also, thoughtlessly, thrown askew cleared the milky smoke from the air and the ringing from his ears, McCree was blinking himself back into a sense of consciousness. Slumped against ashy brick, he saw that handful of friends standing around him. The sound of gunfire was gone.

“McCree, don’t move, I’ll stop the bleeding until we can get you back to the base.” It was Mercy’s voice.  
And all too suddenly, the warmth that overtook his shoulder and portion of his left pectoral made him realize the spray of holes and the red that came with them. Despite Mercy’s help, seeing his wounds for himself only made fresh pain shoot up his body.

“Hell- That sure stings,” Jesse could only mutter through a halfhearted chuckle as he attempted to straighten himself up in complete disregard to Mercy’s order of doing the opposite. But before she, or anyone else, could say another word that McCree would listen to, his head whipped around before settling to a figure perched a decent distance away from the situation. Hanzo - and thankfully an unharmed, not missing any limbs, Hanzo.

That was enough to allow McCree to settle back down to a slump. He succeeded, at least.

“Yer gettin’ old, aren’t ya? Couldn’t see that one get right past-” McCree couldn’t finish his little attempt at a tease when Hanzo suddenly stood in front of his face and a thick fist was currently colliding with his jaw. 

Recovering from probably one of the harshest punches he had experienced in a while, McCree groaned, a good hand reaching up to rub at the throbbing pain in his bone as if to soothe. Still, it was next to nothing compared to that dull pulse of the bullets in his shoulder. 

“You are a fool,” Hanzo growled, Mercy now holding his arms back from swinging a second time, Tracer taking a defensive step forward, “What were you thinking? That I could not handle myself? That throwing yourself in front of a deranged man’s gun was the only solution? That I was certainly about to see my end, and you had to be the one to throw yourself in to stop it?” His words were biting and harsh and setting McCree back against the bricks once more, “Do you think I would ever forgive myself if I had let someone else die over my sake again? How dare you play noble sacrifice. How dare you think to put my life above your own-”

“Hanzo! That’s enough.” Angela cut his feral speech off firmly, her grip on his forearm tight, her brows a stern slant.

“She’s right, McCree was only doing what any of us would have done. He saw you in potential danger and came to help. That’s what we do, we help each other. Overwatch wouldn’t be Overwatch if we were all on our own. He saved your life. Instead of punishing him, be grateful that he got there quicker than we could’ve.” Tracer wasn’t one to show anger, but her tone was hard, and her expression lost a decent amount of the high-spirited light. Eyes shifting from Hanzo to McCree, she sighed and crossed arms over her chest, leaning against Mercy, “At least.. Everyone is decently alright. Let’s just hurry up and get home.” Her last statement was a mumble.

***

Without any more words spoken, the small group traveled back to the nearest Overwatch base. Hanzo ended up trailing behind a good deal. And the night continued layered in stiff, unspoken tones.

After a hasty removal of bullet remains and a painful, handful of stitching, McCree was released back to freedom within the base. His actions were starting to be thought of as just another act of his reckless demeanor - since the mission was supposed to hold no intense difficulty. And Hanzo, in turn, had no comment nor did he have the ability to grace any members with his presence for the rest of that night. 

Steam settled overhead as McCree stood drowsily in a hot shower. The temperature of the water only stung his wounds, but in a sense, it was comforting. Leaning against wet tile, he stared distantly ahead of him, buried heavy in thought. Alternate situations ran through his tired mind - all involving the possibility of him not having stepped in. Could Hanzo really have defended himself and survived just fine? And maybe they could have even shared some chuckles and banter after the completion of the mission? Most-likely. Did that mean McCree regretted what he did? Absolutely not. 

***

The shower finished, McCree didn’t feel refreshed nor cleansed of anything from that day. 

Carelessly pushing wet hair past his forehead, Jesse grabbed the white towel that hung fresh by the counter. Drying himself, he wrapped the material across his hips before settling against the edge of the sink. He stared toward the fogged mirror. Furrowing his brows, unable to see a thing in the glass, he could only yawn and purposefully mess with his now nearly immobile shoulder. 

Then, promptly, the bathroom door was swung open as if McCree had not locked it. And in came Hanzo, expression as grumpy and dissatisfied as always with just a tinge of something else among the layers of grim.

“What- Well I’ll be darned, first ya won’t even thank me for savin’ yer ass, now yer bustin’ into my private quarters,” After calming from a sudden attack of shock, Jesse leaned weight onto one foot and stared accusingly to Hanzo, “Got a good reason for bargin’ in on me practically naked?”

Hanzo, as characteristically as he had been for the night, had nothing to say. But this time, instead, he firmly closed feet between them and tugged Jesse down those three inches of difference between their heights and pushed a kiss to his lips. A soft tickle of facial hair came with it, and after McCree ended up sliding a hand up to Hanzo’s neck, the shorter of the two already pulled away. That crabby expression still plastered to the Japanese man’s face. This along with a surprise of a kiss in a very different situation than Jesse would ever assume, caused a low chuckle to rumble from his throat. 

“Hanzo,” He was rubbing at his cheek, scratching an unshaven face in the process, “Now, I know there be a time and place for everything, but ya gotta at least explain somethin’.”

A silent breath left the Shimada’s lips, and his eyes were everywhere but on the figure in front of him. It took him a moment, and McCree was patient. 

“Seeing you do that, seeing you risk yourself for me,” Hanzo was distancing himself from the man again, as if the kiss was a mistake, “I was angered… Not at you, but at the possibility of you suffering much worse than that. I was angered at myself for being careless enough to allow you to step in for me, to allow you the danger of getting killed on my account. I couldn’t bare to even think of it, of you - of you dying so quickly, without me being able to do anything.” 

McCree’s face contorted sadly at his words, and he said nothing, sensing the man held more words within him to let out. 

“Jesse, I already let someone I had cared for slip out of my hands. And that had been my own fault, as well. I… Have become incapable of sustaining stable relationships with others, I should not have allowed any of tonight to happen like it had. Perhaps I should not even be a part of this-”

“Now hold on there, partner. If yer sayin’ yer incapable of keepin’ good relations then how did ya just swoop in here and damn near steal my heart away with that?” McCree interrupted, just about finished with hearing Hanzo’s pain, taking his turn to step toward him now, a careful grin on his lips, “You were just scared of losin’ me, weren’t ya? Don’t blame yerself, I was mighty scared too. That’s why I jumped in there to begin with. It ain’t any yer fault, so stop buildin’ up that wall again, I’m here, yer here, we’re both still breathin’. So try to find some peace, my friend.” With that, Jesse sighed and reached to replace that hand to Hanzo’s neck, eyes keenly focused on his, “Never set yerself up for failure when it comes to me, ‘cause you’ll be sorry when ya find out I’m a lot harder to get rid of than ya think.” 

Another heavy chuckle left him, and Jesse was glad to see Hanzo’s stiff shoulders relax. This was what they needed - not painful regrets and conversations hard to bring up. They needed cheesy lines and rolling eyes and shared laughs, shaking heads and close contact. And if Hanzo thought himself unable to deserve that kind of happiness, Jesse would surely be the one to prove him wrong. 

“Tonight’s mission was hectic,” Hanzo allowed himself to be held within McCree’s one good arm, hesitantly laying a head to his chest, “I apologize for… Punching you. It was immature of me to act upon my anger so irrationally.” The man practically sighed out his remorse before his chin tilted, and he leaned to line cautious pecks across the discolored bruise along Jesse’s jawline. 

The affection Jesse was now receiving shoved everything else aside, and he beamed, “Hell, I woulda done the same thing, no need to kick up a ruckus. Everyone does stupid stuff here and there, and I’d say I sure justify yer latest stupid thing, that is, only if you justify mine, too.”

Now, Hanzo let out the faintest hint of a chuckle. “As you wish, you fool of a cowboy.” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m a fool,” McCree took a pause, “A fool for you.”

With that, Hanzo lifted his head in an attempt to give an exaggerated response over the ridiculous statement, but too quick had Jesse captured him in another kiss. This one much less of a rough desperation and instead was slow and lazy. With Jesse leaned into the counter and Hanzo over him, they found comfort and home in each other’s arms, in their kisses, their shared taunts and warm chuckles. It was their own little world that gave them a sense of structure, of something they could always come back to after harsh battles, after pain and unknown. It had not been something established between them for too long, but at the same time it felt like much longer than anything else. 

“It’s late, Jesse,” Hanzo spoke after dragged on minutes of soft kissing and embraces. His voice was a tad lower and wispy, as it always was after intimate affection. And only during these moments did Hanzo use McCree’s first name, “You should change into your nightwear. We both need some rest.” The man was right on all accounts, and the only thing McCree could complain about was the fact that they had stopped their kisses. 

Huffing a gruff yawn, the taller nodded before reluctantly releasing the hold he had, “Don’t think I could bother myself with puttin’ on clothes, though, rather just get into bed with ya and have ya keep me warm instead.” He hummed against Hanzo’s dark hair, nuzzling his face into it before turning and flipping the bathroom light off as he padded out and toward his unmade bed. The window curtains were kept up in order to allow moonlight and visions of stars. Compared to Hanzo’s living space, McCree was a bit of a mess. Not that it mattered much anyway, considering no matter who’s room they choose for the night, it always ends up a mess either way.

“Well, I will not be giving you any sympathy when you wake up shivering in the middle of the night, nor will I allow you to steal all the blankets from me, either.” Hanzo spoke firm, though his expression contrasting with his tone greatly, as he shut off the bedroom light as well, allowing a calm darkness to wash over them.

Both men climbed into bed, McCree earning a few groans of pain from the haphazard way he plopped down. Hanzo scolded him and merely told him he got what he deserved for being careless with his wounds - and even still, he made sure to reach closer and brush strands of wet hair from Jesse’s face to press to his cheek and ask if he required fresh bandages.

After taking some time to settle in, they soon curled up within each other and took turns muttering affections while both stared drowsily out the window. 

Tonight, they would sleep peacefully.


End file.
